Beloved Karura
by Ariel D
Summary: More Yondaime Kazekage and Karura fluff: how they met, their dates, their wedding, children's births, etc. Part 11: Daddy!
1. Meeting Again

**Beloved Karura**

By Ariel-D

_Description: More Yondaime Kazekage and Karura fluff: how they met, their dates, their wedding, Gaara's birth, etc._

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Kishimoto's and Shonen Jump's._

_A/N: Yondaime is named Hirohiko in my stories, and I imagine he had an abusive father._

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**I: Meeting Again**

Hirohiko was cautiously darting from building to building, nearly out of chakra and bruised and bleeding, when he heard the screams.

In this little town on the Earth's outskirts, Suna nin and Iwa nin had exploded into battle. What was meant to be a supply run for Suna, led by two teams of jonin, had become a spray of blood over storefronts, streets, and stone fences. Civilians lay dead in the streets; the rest hid in their houses. And Hirohiko was trying not to think about the loss of innocent lives and focus on finding his team when suddenly shrieks shattered what had become dead silence.

Hirohiko dashed to the next store front, then looked down the alley. What he saw made his entire body icy, and then he felt his pulse in his temples. Rage. Instant rage. His fellow jonin team leader, Karura, was on her back against the cobblestones, and an Iwa nin was on top of her, jerking at her pants.

The man had a bloody nose and lips, and Karura's knuckles were bloodied. Hirohiko could tell she had put up a fight. But her puppet was missing, and clearly she was beginning to lose the battle. Despite Hirohiko's lack of chakra, he reacted instantly, shooting a stream of gold dust at the man and knocking him off of Karura. With a grunt, the man hit the ground a few yards away.

A pulse of pain shot through Hirohiko's head at the chakra usage, but he still ran forward, putting himself between Karura and the intended rapist. "Leave her alone!" he shouted, sickened. He shifted his weight back onto one foot and lifted his fists, thinking he might have to finish this with taijutsu.

The man stumbled to his feet and took in Hirohiko's posture, only to laugh. "You must be very bad at taijutsu!"

Hirohiko smirked. "Not too bad." He just rarely ever used it. "But I'm very good at this." He punched the air — a snap of a punch right toward the man's jaw. A fist of gold dust flew up from the ground and connected instead.

The man yelped as he was thrown backward onto the cobblestones.

Hirohiko let his temper loose, punching first with his left fist, and then straight downward with his right fist, driving the man into the stones with his gold dust. Only when the man didn't move anymore did he stop. By the time Hirohiko was finished, he had a splitting headache from chakra over-extension; however, there were more important things to consider than that, and Karura was one of them.

Standing still for a moment, Hirohiko made sure the man was dead before turning to Karura. She was sitting up, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry." Hirohiko rushed over to her, kneeling by her and carefully pulling her into a hug.

She leaned against him, shaking. "You saved me," she whispered.

"Of course," Hirohiko murmured; he would never just stand by and watch something like that happen. Most especially to a fellow Suna nin. He rubbed her back with one hand.

"Thank you."

Hirohiko held her closely, worried for her still. As someone who'd come out of an abusive home, he knew there were more scars and pains than physical ones. And he hated that someone as nice as Karura had been subjected to such an attack. He'd served on a team with her once before, and now today their teams had been sent out together. She'd struck him as strong, opinionated . . . kind, caring.

In the end, he sat with his arms around her until she stopped shaking.

Karura gazed up at him and gave him half a smile. "I'm okay now."

Hirohiko didn't contest that. "All right. Let's find your puppet, okay?" He stood and held out his hand.

Nodding, Karura accepted his hand and let him help her to her feet. They stared at each other for a moment. Hirohiko didn't release her hand, and she didn't pull away. Wordlessly, they turned and headed toward the end of the alley, Hirohiko assuming that they would start their search the next street over.

"I began my fight with him out here," Karura said quietly, confirming his suspicions.

They checked the street before stepping out into it; Karura's solid white puppet, White Dragon, lay on its side in the middle of the street. Dozens of shuriken and kunai littered the area.

"I thought I had him beaten," Karura said. "Then he set off a gas bomb. I tried not to inhale, but a tiny bit got in. Just enough to weaken me."

"Plus you couldn't see," Hirohiko finished.

Karura nodded.

"You're safe now," Hirohiko said in a calm, soothing voice.

She gave him half a smile again, then released his hand to seal her puppet into the scroll that had fallen nearby. Once finished, she secured the scroll to her back. When she stood, Hirohiko held out his hand again.

Karura paused. "You know, I really am okay."

"I know," Hirohiko lied. He gave her a sad smile. Scars and pains on the inside were hard to heal. But just once he wished he could prove his father wrong, make a friend, be someone's hero, make a difference . . .

Karura took his hand, sliding her warm, soft hand into his. He gazed down at their clasped hands, the moment striking him as momentous.

_Someday,_ he thought, _someday . . . I'll have a wife._

_And I'll protect her._

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_A/N: Thank you all who review!  
_


	2. The Festival

**II: The Festival  
(First Date)**

Two weeks later it was Karura, not Hirohiko, who approached the topic of a date. That day she was on his team, and during lunch, she grinned at him and asked him to the star gazing festival the following night.

Hirohiko nearly stumbled over himself replying yes.

Therefore, the following night, Hirohiko dressed in the nicest yukata he owned — a black yukata with a crimson wave design running downwards in two-inch stripes — and tied a silver obi around his waist. His father had ground into his head all his childhood that men should only wear black, tan, or grey, so Hirohiko felt festive indeed in crimson and silver. He slipped on his geta in the foyer of his apartment and headed to Karura's apartment.

When Karura answered the door, she dazzled him with both her beauty and her smile. Hirohiko was used to seeing her in a solid white bunraku uniform; she didn't wear black because she wished to match her puppet. Tonight, however, she was wearing a lavender yukata with a dusky pink chrysanthemum and white rose pattern. She wore a navy blue obi with a tiny pink rose pattern, and her dark blonde hair was swept up into a short ponytail secured by lavender hair sticks.

"Konbanwa," Hirohiko said, bowing. "You look lovely."

Karura bowed in return, her grin giving her a dimple in her right cheek. "Konbanwa. You look quite handsome yourself."

Hirohiko blushed faintly. He was not used to such compliments. "Not at all," he deferred politely.

Karura chuckled. "I insist." She slipped on her geta.

Smiling, Hirohiko held out his arm to her. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they headed into the streets.

The night air was filled with children's happy shrieks and laughter, the smell of frying meat, and the murmur of voices. A faint breeze swept through the streets, far softer than the harsh winds that could pummel Suna, and cooled off the day's heat. Colored paper lanterns were strung from booth to booth, casting a warm glow overhead as the sun set in a show of crimsons, oranges, and pinks.

Hirohiko looked around at the booths, which were busy with customers, then gave Karura a smile. "What would you like to do first? Get something to eat or drink or play a game?"

"A game," Karura replied, pulling on Hirohiko's arm and steering him toward the sandbox game. "I always did like this one. You always get a prize."

"Although you can't predict what kind," Hirohiko teased her gently.

Karura just grinned. "Ah, but I have great luck."

"Do you?" Hirohiko murmured. He wondered if she considered herself lucky to be out on a date with him; it was a mind-blowing concept for him to ponder. He hadn't dated around much.

After paying the vendor, Hirohiko watched Karura stick her hands into the sandbox. The concept of the game was to filter one's hands through the sand until coming into contact with an object. The first object the player touched was their prize.

Karura chose to start in the upper right-hand corner; almost immediately, she pulled out a small red box. "Right away! I'm good."

Hirohiko chuckled.

She straightened and opened the box to reveal a copper ring with two hearts etched in it side by side. "Hey, it's kinda pretty. I like it." She slipped it on her ring finger and held up her hand for investigation.

"Looks nice on you," Hirohiko agreed. Two hearts together. He rather liked the imagery of it.

Karura gave him another dazzling smile, then took his arm again, leading him over to the booth with the goldfish tank. "Want to catch a goldfish?"

Hirohiko patiently allowed himself to be tugged around; whatever made Karura happy was fine by him. "Certainly I can try. I confess to having less than no luck at this game."

Releasing his arm, Karura paid the vendor this time. "Oh? Well, if necessary I'll have to win one for both of us."

Hirohiko held up both hands. "No, no. That's unnecessary."

"But I'm good." Grinning, Karura accepted the paper net from the vendor and knelt over the tank. "Just wait and see."

Despite it all, Hirohiko did watch, holding his breath in sympathetic concentration. Karura positioned her net, biting her lower lip as she did, and then flicked her wrist. Up came a wiggling white goldfish with a red dot on its forehead.

"Amazing," Hirohiko said, breathing again. He'd never known someone to catch one on the first try.

The vendor held out a baggie with water in it, and Karura dumped in her prize. The goldfish swished about, checking out its temporary home.

"Your turn!" Karura paid for him, too.

_She's very egalitarian,_ Hirohiko noted. Not that he minded. He'd been raised in a world of kunoichi.

Hirohiko knelt in front of the tank, feeling self-conscious about catching a fish now. Right away he noticed a large golden fish swimming near the surface, and he began to aim for that one. However, beside it was a runt of a fish, small and delicate. He felt sorry for it. Everyone would aim for the pretty white ones or the showy big golden ones. The runt would be ignored.

Hirohiko tried to overlook the fact that thanks to his father, he was sympathizing with a fish. He made a swipe for the little runt, but the paper net broke.

"Oh!" Karura sounded letdown. "Poor Hirohiko. You were after the little one, weren't you?"

Hirohiko stood and tossed his busted net in the trashcan by the tank. "Yes," he said casually. It had been too sentimental of him in the first place; it was just a fish.

"I'll catch it for you!" Karura paid the vendor again.

"You don't have to do that!" Once again, Hirohiko found himself holding up both hands. "It's just a fish."

Karura shot him a wry look.

Hirohiko realized somehow he'd said too much about himself.

Turning back to the tank, she waited patiently for the runt to get near the surface again. Then, with another flick of her wrist, she nabbed it with her paper net. "Gotcha!"

Shaking his head, Hirohiko could only be amazed. Amazed and touched. Karura had cared enough to secure his fish for him. "Thank you."

They headed away from the booth arm-in-arm, a baggie of fish in Karura's hand.

For the next hour, they moved from booth to booth — dart throwing, archery, masks, face painting, etc. — until the sun had completely set. The fireworks would start soon, so Hirohiko turned to Karura.

"Would you like something to drink or eat before we find a good spot to watch the fireworks from?" he asked.

Karura gazed up at him with a smile. "Bubble tea, please. And dango."

"No problem." Hirohiko headed to the bubble tea booth first. Karura ordered mango, and Hirohiko ordered lemon. Then they visited two more booths, getting dango for Karura and yakitori for Hirohiko. Snacks in hand, they used their skills to climb to the top of a water tower and sit down. From there, they had a clear view.

Karura ate her dumplings off their stick one by one, exclaiming over how good they were, while Hirohiko ate his yakitori. Hirohiko watched Karura's liveliness, her animation, and found her to be gorgeous.

They were drinking their bubble teas when the first fireworks lit the sky. Three starbursts of gold painted themselves across the heavens, followed by streamers of blue, purple, and red. The shots echoed through the buildings.

"Beautiful," Karura said, gazing at the sky.

"I agree," Hirohiko said, glancing at Karura instead. Even with only the light of the fireworks, he could see her blush.

Karura turned to face him, and for a moment, all they did was gaze at each other. Then, slowly, they leaned forward until their lips brushed together. A shot of electricity seemed to fire through Hirohiko, and he pressed into the kiss, tasting the sweetness of mango on Karura's lips. Karura met the kiss, mouthing his lips gently. Her lips were warm and soft, and Hirohiko realized he could quickly lose himself in her. He could smell orchids — her perfume. He moaned faintly, reaching up with both hands to cup her cheeks and mouthing her lips as well. Karura moaned as well.

With some regret, Hirohiko broke the kiss, and after a trading shy smiles, they returned their attention to the fireworks. They sat holding hands.

Hirohiko found it to be the perfect end to a perfect date and hoped they would go out again.

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_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciated it._


	3. The Movie

**III: The Movie  
(Second Date)**

The following Friday at 7:00 found Hirohiko dressed in a black yukata with a white leaf pattern and a crimson obi. This time, he was waiting for Karura to pick him up for their date. He lived in a studio apartment just three blocks down from the Kazekage Complex. He'd only rented the apartment for the past year. Despite having graduated at age 9 and making chuunin only a few years later, he hadn't moved away from his parents until age 22. His father had kept him well-caged all his life, and if his uncle — as Kazekage — hadn't insisted upon Hirohiko's independence so he could be trained as his successor, Hirohiko would have never gotten free.

He sometimes wondered if he was free even now.

When his doorbell rang, Hirohiko experienced a flutter of nerves, but he answered the door with a smile.

Karura was wearing tan cargo pants, a black sports bra, and an oversized olive-green jacket. Her short hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and small daisy earrings decorated her ears. She had on a matching daisy necklace. "Yo!"

Hirohiko was charmed. "Konbanwa." He bowed to her.

She bowed back, then took his arm. "You ready?" She had picked out their restaurant for the night and was treating him to dinner.

Hirohiko nodded, and she swept him away to the restaurant, which was a dingy little dive on the corner of Parade Ave. and Tohori Ave. The florescent lights had a yellow-green cast to them; the plastic booths and chairs were cracked. The white- and grey-speckled tiles were scuffed, and the menu sign over the cash register flickered.

"I know it looks bad," Karura said as they entered. "But they have the best yakitori and tempura in the village!"

Although Hirohiko felt overdressed, he set aside his feelings of being out of place and forced himself not to be offended. It would be terribly ungracious of him, and she might be right. He wouldn't know until he tried their food. "Okay," he said simply.

After placing their orders — Karura ordered the extra large shrimp tempura with chicken yakitori — they retreated to a corner booth. Hirohiko's yukata saved him from the scratchy seat.

Karura crossed her arms on the table and then leaned forward on them; the wobbly table shifted under the pressure. "So, we can go see _The Shogunate II_ if you like," she said. "Or, if you've already seen it, there is a bull fight tonight at the arena."

Since Suna's State Theater had expanded to two screens, Hirohiko had looked up the listings. He noticed Karura suggested the action-drama and not the romance, _The Last Tea Ceremony in Yokohama_. "No interest in _The Last Tea?_" he asked, curious.

Karura wrinkled her nose. "I've heard there're some funny scenes, so it might be okay. The original _Shogunate_ movie is my favorite, though. I've already seen the sequel once, and it's pretty good, too."

"I see," Hirohiko murmured. He'd seen _The Shogunate,_ and he found it to be hyperviolent and dark. He got enough of that on the battlefield and didn't care to see it off hours . . . which was exactly why he didn't want to watch a bull fight, either. He found the practice too abusive to animals.

He wondered if maybe Karura and he had interests that were too different.

Tilting her head to the side, Karura watched him. "Why? You wanna see _The Last Tea?_"

Thanks to his childhood, Hirohiko could hear in his head his father's ranting about his lack of manliness. A man who would prefer a romance movie? Unspeakable. "Ah . . . Well, you have already seen _Shogunate II_, and I have heard that _The Last Tea_ is funny . . ." He paused, more concerned about her having a good time than he.

A dimple formed on Karura's right cheek as she smiled. "Oi, we can go to _The Last Tea._"

Hirohiko held up one hand. "You don't have to — "

Karura just grinned. "Oi, relax. I'm here to wine ya, dine ya, and — " She stopped short. "Well, not that last part. But I might just kiss ya again."

Hirohiko blushed, his mind having supplied the end of that old phrase. Not to mention the topic of kissing. "Ah . . . yes. I mean, very well."

Karura laughed.

Their food arrived on faded blue plates. Karura chatted happily while they ate, Hirohiko listening quietly and answering any direct questions. He tended to be quiet until he got to know people well.

After dinner, Karura took his hand and swept him off to the theater next. She bought their tickets, grabbed them drinks, and then settled in the back of theater 2 to watch with Hirohiko _The Last Tea Ceremony in Yakahoma_.

As it turned out, it only had two funny scenes. The rest of the movie was an explicit look at a widower losing himself in a woman from Yakahoma.

By the time the movie was over, Hirohiko was deeply uncomfortable and flushed. He didn't want to watch something so explicit on a second date with a woman he was merely acquainted with.

"Well, steamy," Karura said dryly as they left. She dumped their empty cups on the way out. "I had no idea it was like that."

Hirohiko could hardly speak. "Me, neither."

She gave him an appraising look.

He blushed harder.

"Ah, yeah. A bit disturbing, really." Karura took his hand, and they headed out into the cold night air. A strong wind whipped through the streets. "But, hey, that's okay. We can still have fun. Want to go to Lovers' Walk?"

Lovers' Walk was the sidewalk that ran the parameter of the village. Couples would stroll there; joggers and walkers would exercise there. Benches were spaced out every fifty feet for those who wished to rest, and the path was lit by ornate iron lamps. Hirohiko thought it was relaxing. "Certainly."

When they reached Lovers' Walk, Hirohiko tucked Karura's hand into his elbow, and they started around the loop. As they walked, Hirohiko's discomfort over the movie waned. Karura chatted with him happily.

About halfway through the loop, Karura glanced up at him and grinned. "So, _Shogunate II_ next time?"

Hirohiko laughed. "Yeah. Blood and guts are safer."

Karura laughed as well.

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_A/N: Thank you to each of my reviewers! I appreciate your feedback._


	4. The Home-cooked Meal

**IV: The Home-cooked Meal**

The inevitable date arrived: the Date of the Home-cooked Meal. In Suna's culture, a girlfriend was expected to cook her boyfriend a meal so he could sample her culinary skills.

Karura invited Hirohiko to her apartment on a Saturday night, expressing excitement for the event. "I'll cook you the best dinner you've ever had, yeah!"

Hirohiko had never reached this point with any of his dates, so he simply hoped he'd remember all his manners.

When Saturday night arrived, Hirohiko dressed in a navy yukata with a white bamboo pattern, which he matched with a crimson obi. Then he made his way to Karura's apartment, trying to remember all the etiquette that his mother ever drilled into him.

Karura answered the door in a pair of cut off cargo pants, a tight-fitting pink t-shirt, a leather necklace. Hirohiko's impression was yards of bare, curvy legs. Her ponytail was falling down. "Oh! Konbanwa." She bowed hastily. "Please come in. I'm behind schedule, as you can see."

Amused, Hirohiko bowed. "Konbanwa. And it's fine." He realized his mother would be scandalized, but he found Karura to be endearing.

She stepped aside, and he entered, slipping off his geta in the foyer. "Just have a seat at the kotatsu table," she told him, rushing back to the kitchen. "I set out some tea already, and I'm almost done!"

"Very well." Hirohiko headed for the small kotatsu table, the smells of the apartment rushing around him. A spicy incense filled the air, along with the smell of oranges, grease, and something burnt. _She burnt our dinner? It's a wonder she's not panicking. No wonder she's not dressed yet._

Hirohiko poured himself a cup of tea as he waited. About five minutes passed, and then Karura began carrying in dishes: miso soup, seaweed salad, maki sushi, rice, and orange chicken.

Hirohiko was impressed; they were all favorite foods of his. "Quite a feast." One always did prepare too much food, though; it was custom. "Looks wonderful." She had arranged everything artfully on the plates.

"No, no," Karura said, as to be expected. "It's just a little something; nothing much." She sat across from him, still in her cutoff shorts and tee, and gestured for him to begin.

Hirohiko picked up his chopsticks. "Itadakimasu!" He took a bite of the orange chicken . . .

And nearly died. The level of red pepper in the orange chicken was red-hot flaming intense. The level of ginger seemed unusually high, too; Hirohiko's entire mouth burned.

He coughed and took a sip of his tea, trying to calm the fire. "It's good," he lied.

Karura waved him off. "No, no. I forgot the salt."

_I could never tell it,_ Hirohiko thought but didn't say. He nabbed a piece of maki sushi instead and popped it in his mouth. _Spicy tuna?_ His mouth burned all over again. He cleared his throat delicately and put down several bites of plain rice in an attempt to help the situation.

His sinuses began running.

With a delicate sniff, Hirohiko switched to the seaweed salad; it seemed fairly safe. Sure enough, it cooled off his mouth a bit, although the seaweed immediately stuck itself in his teeth, just as it always seemed to. Hirohiko eyed the miso soup with suspicion. Surely it would be safe, too. He ate a piece of tofu from the soup, checking it, but it seemed fine.

So apparently he just needed to defend himself against the orange chicken and the spicy tuna roll. He'd never considered covering his tongue with gold dust before, but the thought did cross his mind.

And somehow he had to eat it all without hurting Karura's feelings.

Bravely, Hirohiko took a second bite of orange chicken. His lips began burning; he wondered if they were turning pink. He could feel the burn going all the way down his throat into his stomach. He felt tears forming in his eyes and took a careful sip of his green tea again.

Karura was watching him eat with an eager smile. She seemed to be following the old tradition of waiting for him to finish eating first. "I decided to try experimenting with some of the dishes," she said. "I wanted to make it extra special for you."

"You did remember all my favorite dishes," Hirohiko said neutrally.

Karura grinned. "Of course!"

Hirohiko realized there was no real way to shelter her feelings. "Please," he gestured, "eat with me."

"Thank you!" Karura picked up her chopsticks. "Itadakimasu!" She took a bite of orange chicken and chewed.

Then stopped.

She took a sip of her green tea. "Oh, dear," she said dryly. She thought for a moment, then excused herself to the kitchen. When she returned, she was blushing. "Oops. I misread the recipe. I put in one tablespoon of red pepper rather than one teaspoon."

Hirohiko smiled at her. "It's okay."

"Your lips are a lovely shade of pink now," Karura admitted.

Hirohiko put his hand over his mouth. "Oh. Oh, well."

Karura sighed and settled at the table. "Please don't force yourself to eat it." She gestured to the rice. "That's safe. I think. I burnt the bottom, but I didn't use that part."

_So honest._ Hirohiko was amazed she'd admit to more mishaps. Some women would be crushed just by the first part. "The miso soup and seaweed salad are excellent," he assured her. He didn't mention the sushi.

Eyeing the maki sushi with sudden suspicion, Karura grabbed one piece with her chopsticks and ate it. She swallowed hard. "Whew!" She drank more of her tea. "That's not spicy tuna. That's spi~cy tuna."

Hirohiko lowered his hand and smiled. "But I give you a 10 for presentation and a 10 for effort."

Karura laughed.

Hirohiko was glad to see her take it so well. "Well, I think it's ridiculous to judge the value of your worth based on 1) food preparation and 2) one single meal." A potential wife was more than a cook.

"You're so kind," Karura said, smiling at him softly. "Most men would . . ." She shrugged.

"I'm not most men," Hirohiko said dryly.

Karura's smile grew bigger. "You certainly are not. Thank God!"

And Karura was not most women, either, Hirohiko reflected.

He thought that made them a great couple.

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_A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You guys are wonderful!_


	5. Meet the Parents

**V: Meet the Parents**

The dreaded time had come: time for Hirohiko to meet Karura's parents and little brother. He was wildly nervous. He had to make a good impression, for one. But also he imagined Karura's parents were similar to his own: a frowning, cruel father who would tower over him, gazing down at him with displeasure, and a quiet, mousey mother who said little and was easily frightened.

Still, it was normal to meet the parents of one's girlfriend and pass the parental test. Over a dinner, no less.

That dreaded Saturday night, Hirohiko dressed in a somber, respectable black yukata with grey pinstripes and a white obi with black stripes. When he met Karura at her apartment, he found her dressed in a cheerful shift dress of sky blue with a large pattern of daisies. Her short hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and tied with a white ribbon. The contrast between them was striking.

"You look more like you're going to a funeral," Karura teased him.

"Yeah, mine," Hirohiko said lightly, although the way he felt, he really wasn't joking.

Karura laughed. "Oh, you'll be fine. My parents are sweethearts!"

_Parents. Sweethearts. Parents. Sweethearts._ The two words did not compute in Hirohiko's brain.

When they arrived at the rounded adobe home so typical of Suna, all seemed quiet. The living room window was open, and the smell of beef yakisoba drifted out the window along with the soft, droning voice of a newscaster on the TV.

Karura raised her fist, getting ready to knock. "Brace yourself," she said, grinning.

_For what?_ Hirohiko wanted to ask, nervous.

Karura knocked.

The house exploded in a flurry of voices and barking. A chorus of yipping crescendoed through the house as at least two dogs galloped to the front door. This was matched by human voices:

"They're here!"

"Get the door, would you, Yashamaru?"

"Someone get the dogs out of the way."

"Sit! Stay!"

The door flew open. A young man only two or three years Karura's junior — and looking almost like her identical twin — grinned at them. "Konbanwa! Konbanwa!" He bowed. "Hey, Neechan! Hello, Hirohiko-sama! Come in, come in." He stepped out of the way.

At his feet where two quivering toy wiener dogs, both clearly having trouble with the "sit" command. They began yipping again.

"Hey, Maru!" Karura hurled herself at him, arms wide. They hugged tightly, rocking each other back and forth in an exaggerated swing.

"Hey, Neechan!" Yashamaru pulled back and gazed at her with adoration. Then his gaze shifted to Hirohiko. "So this is the one, yeah?"

"Yep! This is Hirohiko."

Hirohiko bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Yashamaru bowed again; he had a soft voice and matching deportment. "The pleasure's mine. I'm Yashamaru."

Hirohiko stepped inside, and Karura and he slipped off their shoes. Hirohiko was well aware that Yashamaru was in ANBU, and his real name wasn't Yashamaru. Karura hadn't indulged his real name yet, though, and clearly the family was upholding the protection of his real identity.

The dogs couldn't take it anymore and hopped up, dancing around Hirohiko's knees and yipping. Hirohiko, who wasn't used to dogs — having never been allowed a pet of any kind — and therefore not used to the ruckus, felt uncomfortable.

Yashamaru's soft manner immediately hardened. "I said _sit!_"

They sat.

A man in his late forties entered the room and bowed. He had white-streaked blonde hair and large blue-green eyes. He wore a pale green yukata with a dark green leaf design. "Welcome to our humble home, Hirohiko-sama." He smiled, his entire demeanor radiating calmness. "I'm Yuuto."

Hirohiko bowed to him, instantly put at ease. This man was short and thin like him, and there were no vibes of a male superiority complex at all. "Thank you for inviting me, Yuuto-san."

Hirohiko looked between Yuuto's colorful yukata and Yashamaru's bold one, which was cherry red with white kanji for longevity printed on it, and realized he looked somber, indeed. Then again, his father's stance on "real men" was "real men always wear black, grey, or tan." Hirohiko wondered if maybe he should consider shedding the mindset; he thought Yuuto's and Yashamaru's yukata were wonderful.

Finally, a woman emerged from the hallway and bowed as well. "Konbanwa, Hirohiko-sama. Welcome." She straightened and grinned at him, a twinkle in her eyes. She had light brown hair with a few streaks of grey, and she was wearing a white kung fu jacket and pants, not a yukata. "I'm Harae."

Hirohiko was immediately struck with the impression that Karura was a spine that had not fallen far from the cactus. He bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine!" Harae swept over to him, taking his arm and leading him into the kitchen. "Now come right in and make yourself at home. Our home is your home! I've prepared the foods Karura says you like, but my cooking's not much." The usual self-bashing that Suna's culture required.

"No, I'm sure it's wonderful," Hirohiko immediately protested.

Harae sat him at the foot of the table. Everyone else filed in and took their places, Karura to Hirohiko's left and Yashamaru to Hirohiko's right. Harae sat by Karura, and Yuuto sat at the head of the table. Before them was a magnificent spread of seaweed salad, rice, maki sushi, vegetable tempura, and beef yakisoba, which were indeed favorites of Hirohiko's.

As soon as they began eating, so did Harae's questions.

"So, tell us all about yourself, Hirohiko-sama!" Harae grinned at him. "We've got the favorite foods down. How about favorite color? Do you like dogs?"

"Kaasan," Yuuto said, smiling and shaking his head. "Let the man eat."

"Nonsense. The man can eat and converse at the same time." Harae grinned at him. "Do you like dogs?"

Hirohiko glanced at the little dogs hovering just beyond the kitchen doorway, quivering as they smelled the food. "Well . . . they're cute."

"You've never had a dog," Yashamaru said, laughing.

"There's not cute?" Hirohiko asked, hiding a smile.

Yashamaru grinned at him. "Oh, they're cute. They're just little pests, too."

Hirohiko returned the smile.

Harae laughed. "Well, if they bother us too much, I can fry us up some inu yakitori."

Karura snorted. "She always threatens to do that, but she'd never actually do it."

Hirohiko smiled. He couldn't believe how laidback and easygoing Karura's family was. He actually felt at home with them. It was a far cry from the way his meals with his family always went. He hoped Karura's family could and would accept him fully.

"Well, my favorite color is actually red," Hirohiko began, trying to answer the questions.

"Like your beautiful hair," Harae chimed in.

Hirohiko smiled at her. _So like Karura._ "Oh, not at all," he deferred politely.

"He's so cute!" Harae said, clearly charmed.

Hirohiko decided he loved it here.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews, faves, and follows!_


	6. Meet the Parents II

**VI: Meet the Parents II**

Even more than Hirohiko dreaded meeting Karura's parents, he dreaded her having to meet his parents. Granted, they tended to act like normal human beings when strangers were around, but Hirohiko still didn't trust them. His father, Mezurashi, was cold and cruel, and his mother, Momiko, was withdrawn and silent. The supper wouldn't be the fun-filled adventure that it had been with Karura's parents.

For this dinner, Hirohiko wore a black yukata with a shiny black pattern — the kanji for peace. He matched it with a grey obi with black pinstripes. Then he headed for Karura's apartment.

Karura answered the door dressed in a soft pink yukata with a bold design of purple, white, and yellow chrysanthemums; a yellow obi with pink dots finished her outfit. She took one look at Hirohiko's attire and raised her eyebrows. "Wow. More funeral-esque than even dinner with my parents."

With a sad smile, Hirohiko shook his head. "Just . . . be careful. My parents aren't like yours. Yours are . . . amazing. Wonderful."

Reaching out, Karura took his hand and squeezed it. "We'll be fine."

_We._ Hirohiko squeezed her hand in return, taking a deep breath. "Right. We're a team."

Karura nodded. "Exactly."

Hirohiko nodded in return. "Okay."

Karura slipped on her geta, and they headed across the village to Hirohiko's parents' house.

When Hirohiko knocked on the door, his mother answered. She was a wisp of a woman, her cheeks gaunt and her auburn hair streaked with silver. She gave them a smile that didn't reach her eyes and bowed very deeply. "Konbanwa. Welcome to our humble home." She straightened, gesturing for them to enter.

Karura bowed deeply in return. "Thank you." She stepped in and slipped off her geta.

Hirohiko followed suit, making the formal introductions. "Kaasama, this is Karura. Karura, my kaasama, Momiko."

Momiko bowed deeply again. "It's a pleasure, Karura-san."

Karura returned the bow. "No, the pleasure is mine, Momiko-san."

Momiko straightened, her voice as quiet as ever. "You look well, Hirohiko."

"Thank you, Kaasama." Hirohiko swallowed a sigh. No hugs here. No excited puppies, no cheerful voices. Just standing on ceremony.

Mezurashi appeared in the living room doorway, his arms crossed. He was a tall man, a full six foot five, with broad shoulders, a boxy jaw, and square face. His appearance was made more severe by his short-cropped white hair. Next to him, Hirohiko was tiny.

For a moment, Mezurashi merely surveyed the room's occupants like a king gazing down from his throne. He was dressed in a plain black yukata with a solid tan obi.

The resemblance between them made Hirohiko want to go change clothes.

Karura smiled at Mezurashi and bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for inviting me into your home."

Mezurashi looked to Hirohiko. "Aren't you going to introduce her properly?"

_Karura and I are a team,_ Hirohiko reminded himself quickly. A flashback of a lifted hand snapped through his mind; he pushed it away. "This is Karura, my girlfriend." He looked to Karura. "My otousama, Mezurashi."

Mezurashi finally dropped his arms and bowed to Karura. "It's a pleasure to meet you . . . at last."

Hirohiko ignored the dig. He couldn't win an argument with his father anyway, and it was behavior like this that kept him away. That and memories of the past.

Karura just smiled at him. "Thank you." She glanced around the sedate living room, which was decorated in dark blue and white. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," Mezurashi said, then stepped out of the doorway and gestured to the kitchen. "This way, please."

Karura followed him into the kitchen, and Hirohiko followed Karura. Momiko silently brought up the rear.

Karura ended up sitting across the table from Hirohiko, with Mezurashi at one end of the small table and Momiko at the other. No one had asked for Hirohiko's input for Karura's favorite foods, unlike Harae had, so they were being served one of Momiko's classic meals: rice, grilled fish, nigiri sushi, and miso soup.

"Looks lovely," Karura said politely.

"Not at all," Momiko demurred.

Mezurashi picked up his chopsticks. "Itadakimasu." This was the cue that everyone else was allowed to eat.

They began their meal in silence.

Hirohiko suppressed his nervousness into numbness.

After about five minutes of silence, Momiko hummed nervously. "So, I hear you are a puppet master, Karura-san."

Karura smiled. "Yes, that's right."

"How many puppets can you control?" Mezurashi asked.

Hirohiko found the question to be rude. While it was true that the more gifted a puppet master was, the more puppets he or she could use, it was also true that even the greatest puppet masters sometimes only used one or two puppets at a time.

"I can control four," Karura said, no trace of insult in her tone. "Although I prefer to go into battle with my very best puppet only."

"Why not carry your entire arsenal?" Mezurashi asked, picking up a piece of halibut nigiri sushi.

Karura just smiled at him. "Depends on the mission."

Mezurashi considered that a moment, then nodded.

_As if you know anything about what's best for a puppet master,_ Hirohiko thought, irked. Externally, though, he ate his grilled fish and rice with a neutral expression. "She's one of our strongest jonin," he said, careful to keep his tone complimentary and not defensive.

"That's good to hear. For now," Mezurashi said. He gazed across the table at Momiko. "After the children come, a kunoichi's career is over."

Momiko nodded meekly. She'd given up her career the moment they'd discovered she was pregnant with Hirohiko.

Hirohiko wondered if Karura might pop, given her independent and tomboy frame of mind. Especially since Mezurashi had made it sound like there were no options. But all Karura did was smile at him.

"We're not engaged yet," Karura teased Mezurashi lightly. "So there's been no talk of children."

"Ah, yes." Mezurashi merely nodded. "I suppose that's logical."

Hirohiko wanted to sigh, but he held it in. _If we get married, it'll be her choice what she does!_ he wanted to say. But that would start one of their nasty fights, and Hirohiko always lost those fights, anyway. Painfully.

Silence fell again. Momiko was picking at her food.

After another eternity, Mezurashi snapped, "Don't pick at your food, woman! We have guests."

Hirohiko blushed, humiliated that Karura had to be present for such a thing.

Momiko grew flushed as well, clearly embarrassed, but she took a bite of her food anyway.

Karura acted as though nothing had happened and took a bite of salmon nigiri sushi.

_Puppet masters really do have the best acting skills,_ Hirohiko thought, impressed, although it didn't make him feel any less horrified.

"You have a healthy appetite," Mezurashi remarked to Karura. "You eat sensibly."

"Thank you," Karura said, smiling as though nothing were wrong.

_Amazing acting skills,_ Hirohiko thought.

Twenty painful minutes later, Hirohiko was able to extract them with the explanation they had an early mission in the morning.

Karura bowed to Hirohiko's parents. "Thank you for the wonderful meal."

"You're welcome, dear," Momiko said quietly.

"Come see us more often," Mezurashi demanded.

Hirohiko bowed to his parents as well, slipped on his geta, and nearly dragged Karura out the door with him. She was lucky to get the chance to get her geta on.

A half a block later, Hirohiko stopped, turned to Karura, and bowed. "I'm so, so sorry."

Karura reached out and feathered her fingers through his hair. "It's okay. I can handle crude men. Although it worries me just how crushed your mother is."

"Has been," Hirohiko corrected, straightening. "As long as I can remember."

Karura shook her head sadly. "And you grew up under this?"

Hirohiko hadn't even told her but the tiniest bit of it. "Yes, I'm afraid I did."

"Explains why you're so solemn and quiet at times," Karura said gently.

Hirohiko gave her a sad smile.

Karura took his hand and squeezed it, then began walking again, pulling him with her. "Well, my family will love you. You'll be accepted like one of us in no time."

Hirohiko couldn't even imagine such a thing.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews, faves, and follows!_


	7. The Confession

_A/N: Warning: Disturbing images._

* * *

**VII: The Confession**

After five months of dating, Karura and Hirohiko had fallen into the habit of visiting her parents and brother every Saturday evening. Just as Karura had predicted, Hirohiko had been accepted into the family. Yashamaru had begun calling Hirohiko "Nii-sama," or older brother, and Yuuto and Harae had taken to calling him "Shisoku," or son.

Conversely, they'd only visited Hirohiko's parents twice during the entire five months.

This particular Friday, they'd decided to make their date a picnic lunch at the terrarium — the only place other than the government green houses that had grass and trees. The terrarium had been built under Niidaime Kakekage's rule as a small park for villagers to relax and play in. There were swings, slides, benches, picnic tables, pathways, and booths selling ice cream and drinks.

Karura had picked out a shady spot under a tree, where they'd spread a blanket in order to help invite ants to the meal. They had packed bento boxes filled with onigiri, maki, and nigiri sushi, along with taiyaki for dessert. They chatted through their meal, taking their time, and then afterwards, Hirohiko lay in Karura's lap. They were in a copse of trees, so there was no one to oversee or disrupt their intimate moment. Except ants, perhaps.

For several moments, Hirohiko just lay with his head in Karura's lap, letting her run her fingers through his short, auburn hair. He gazed at the branches overhead, watching the sunlight dapple the leaves. Crickets chirped nearby, the sound relaxing.

Into the comfortable silence between them, Karura spoke. "Tell me about your father, Hirohiko."

Hirohiko hesitated, not wanting to spoil a beautiful afternoon with such talk. Then it hit him that talking about his father while relaxed was maybe the best way. And it wasn't like he could admit to it all at once anyway. There was so much to tell.

"My father spent my entire childhood beating me," he confessed in a quiet voice, still staring at the branches above. They seemed very far away now. "Anything that I did that displeased him earned me his wrath. It could be something very simple; all that mattered was whether he'd had a bad day. For example, one time when I was eight . . ."

* * *

At eight years old, Hirohiko was short and tiny, almost underweight for his age. His hair was bright red, and he had a few freckles around his large, dark eyes. His teachers said he was cute; his father despised him as effeminate. This turned out to be an especially bad thing when his father decided to help train him by sparring with him in the family dojo.

"Now be a man!" his father snapped, sending ice spears hurdling toward his son. His kekkei genkai was ice release; he was originally from Kiri, although he'd married into the Kazekage's family.

Hirohiko jerked up his gold dust shield as quickly as he could, but one of the spears got past, gouging his arm. He yelped.

"Don't whine like a dog!" His father immediately sent out a wave of ice shards, hailing his son from on high.

Raising his arms, Hirohiko jerked his gold dust overhead, but two shards still got through, one cutting his shoulder and the other his cheek. This time, he swallowed the cry of pain as best he could.

"I _told_ you not to whimper." His father sounded dangerously put-out.

Hirohiko got very still; sometimes if he was very still and quiet, his father would calm down and not hit him.

In this case, it turned out to be the wrong move. His father sent a spray of ice shards underneath the gold dust umbrella, catching him across the legs. Blood spurted out, and Hirohiko let his gold dust fall all at once.

"What the hell did you do that for?" his father howled. He stomped over and slapped Hirohiko, knocking him to the floor. "You're going to be a shinobi, boy." His fist flew out. "You gotta learn to take pain like a man." Each idea was accentuated with a blow. "No whimpers, no dropping of your guard! Stay silent and keep fighting!"

Hirohiko curled up in a ball to protect his face and head. The blows fell on his back. He screamed and cried; he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, Otousama! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"You better be." His father stopped, winded, and growled. "Now stop crying or I'll punish you again!"

Hirohiko swallowed all his tears instantly. His back was throbbing, burning, aching. "Yes, Otousama."

"Now." His father took his stance again. "Let's start over from the beginning."

* * *

Hirohiko fell silent at the end of his story. His face was red, and he was trembling faintly, his stomach clenched into knots. "I hate that man," he hissed.

Karura leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'm so, so sorry, love."

Hirohiko felt his stomach unclench immediately. "I — well, thank you. It was hell. I still haven't really gotten over it. But it's why I don't want to visit my parents much. He's still got that terrible temper, and my kaasama never did a damn thing to help me."

Nodding, Karura kissed his nose. "I understand. We won't visit much." She smiled at him. "And I'd never let you be hurt in my presence. I'd protect you."

"Protect me?" Hirohiko's little laugh was sad. "Aren't I the one who's supposed to protect you?"

Karura grinned and kissed his lips upside down. "We can protect each other."

Hirohiko couldn't argue with that. When Karura leaned down to kiss him again, he met her lips, mouthing them gently. They sucked on each other's lips alternately, drawing faint moans from each other.

To Hirohiko, it was clear that he had found the perfect wife. Now he just had to get up the nerve to ask her to marry him.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, faves, and follows!_


	8. The Proposal

**VIII: The Proposal**

Six months after they'd begun dating, Karura asked Hirohiko out to the Lovers' Walk again. "Wear a yukata," she had told him. "It's our sixth month anniversary today."

Hirohiko did as asked, donning a navy yukata with a rainbow-colored starburst pattern and matching it with a yellow obi. Then he went to Karura's apartment to pick her up. She greeted him at the door, and she wore a lavender yukata with a delicate sakura design and an indigo obi with tiny white pansies and begonias on it. A barrette of a white begonia was pinned in her hair.

"Konbanwa," Hirohiko said, bowing. "You're so beautiful."

Karura blushed and bowed. "Thanks, handsome."

Hirohiko smiled at her and offered her his arm. Karura slipped on her geta and then took his elbow, giving him a mischievous grin.

"Oh?" Hirohiko had seen that look plenty of times now.

"Nothing," Karura said breezily.

"Um-hm." Hirohiko didn't buy that for a second.

They strolled through the sandy streets until they reached Lovers' Walk. A pair of joggers immediately passed them by, smiling at them. Several feet ahead of them an elderly couple walked hand-in-hand.

"That could be us in a several decades," Karura murmured.

Hirohiko smiled at her. "Actually, you'd be the jogger still."

Karura laughed. "Okay, we'll jog hand-in-hand as a cranky old couple."

Hirohiko had to laugh as well. "Works for me." _We speak of our future together so surely now._

"How many children and grandchildren do you think we'll have by that point?" Karura grinned.

"At least two children," Hirohiko said, enjoying this talk. "And at least four grandchildren."

Karura snorted. "Nah, nah. Let's have four children and sixteen grandchildren."

"Sixteen?" As an only child, Hirohiko couldn't even compute such numbers.

Karura chuckled. "Sure, sure. Let's leave behind a big legacy."

"Legacy, ne?" Hirohiko softly smiled at her. "I can go for that."

The mischievous grin returned. "You can, can you?"

Hirohiko nodded.

"Then please sit." Karura gestured at the nearest bench.

Hirohiko had no idea what to make of this, but he did as asked.

Karura knelt on one knee in front of him.

Recognizing the position, Hirohiko blushed. "Wait — what are you doing?"

Karura grinned and pulled a ring box out of her sleeve. She opened it, revealing a simple stainless steel band inside. "Will you marry me, Hirohiko?"

For a moment, Hirohiko was speechless. As bold and tomboy as Karura was, Hirohiko had never expected to be proposed to. He felt his blush deepen. "Ah — yes." He found himself chuckling after a moment. "Couldn't you have waited for me?"

"You were being too slow," she teased him. She pulled the band out of the box. "Now hold out your finger."

Hirohiko laughed but did as told, accepting the engagement ring.

"Looks good on you," Karura said. She stored the box back in her sleeve, then stood, wiping her yukata clean. "There you go." She sat down beside him.

Hirohiko leaned over and kissed her. She cupped his cheek with one hand, and he ran his hand behind her neck. They mouthed each other's lips slowly, sucked on each other's lower lips. Karura's lips were warm and soft against Hirohiko's, and for a time, they were lost in each other.

When he pulled away, Hirohiko was faintly winded. "Now we'll have to pick out your ring."

Karura grinned. "I can't wait!"

* * *

The following evening, Hirohiko took Karura shopping for an engagement ring.

The first three shops they visited Karura blew through with little interest. "I'm looking for something unique," she explained. "I don't want the same ol', same ol'."

Taking one look at Karura, Hirohiko wasn't surprised. For Karura, today's outfit was a hot pink shift dress with a bold pattern of white, blue, and maroon diamonds; her hair was drawn up into two ponytails. Beside her, Hirohiko felt dull in his black cargo pants and black shirt. "You can get whatever strikes your fancy," he told her. _Assuming I can afford it,_ he mentally added.

Karura grinned up at him. "You're so sweet. And understanding."

Hirohiko gave her a soft smile.

In the fourth shop, Karura pointedly asked the saleslady for The Unique. The lady bowed and took her to a case in the back, showing off a collection that included a 3D-looking ring Hirohiko couldn't comprehend how to wear, a ring shaped like a horseshoe with black diamonds in it, and a ring that looked rather like an amoeba.

"Aw! That one." Karura pointed to the amoeba.

Hirohiko was shocked. _But it has no real form!_

The saleslady brought the ring out of the case and let Karura try it on. The ring was irregularly shaped — rather like a bent oval — with raw diamonds clustered in the middle and a wad of gold around it.

"It looks melted," Hirohiko said. He could just hear his father now: _"What the hell kinda engagement ring did you buy your fiancé? Didn't I tell you better manners than that? You need another lesson, boy?"_ He shivered at the mere thought.

Karura smiled. "It's just a diamond in the rough with the gold shaped around it."

"I can hear my parents now," Hirohiko sighed.

"I'll just tell them how much I love it," Karura said. "Besides, it's my ring."

Hirohiko couldn't argue with that, and her insistence should quiet his father. He hoped. "Well, like I said, whatever makes you happy."

Holding out her hand, Karura gazed at the ring dully sparkling on her finger. "I love it!"

And so it was that Hirohiko bought an amoeba ring for his future wife to wear.

He consoled himself that at least the ring wasn't ridiculously expensive.

* * *

_A/N: It's a real ring. Google "top 10 unique engagement rings" and you can find it._


	9. The Wedding

**IX: The Wedding and Wedding Night**

After a year of dating, Hirohiko and Karura were set to get married. Hirohiko had been waiting for that entire year for his father to veto his choice, but Karura's soft, solicitous behavior in his presence kept the old dragon satisfied. To Hirohiko, this was hilarious. Karura was gentle and kind, but she was also a tomboy and filled with bold opinions. If Hirohiko's father ever tried to match his wits to hers, it would be quite the fight.

The wedding arrangements were made between the families with Yashamaru as the intermediary. It would be a traditional Shinto wedding, complete with san san kudo, in which the couples drank from the same sake cups to cement their union.

The morning of their wedding, Hirohiko found himself pacing back and forth in a conference room. The wedding would be in a hotel ballroom, and the bride and groom were in separate conference rooms, getting ready. Except Hirohiko had finished getting ready, and this meant all Hirohiko had left to do was get nervous.

"Good God," his father snapped, crossing his arms. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a boxy jaw and white hair cropped close to his skull. "Calm down, boy. Don't be flitting around the room like some prima donna."

Hirohiko froze in place. He didn't want anything ugly to happen on his wedding day. This day had to be perfect, even with his father's presence and his ugly temper.

His mother, who was a petite woman with silver-streaked auburn hair, walked over and straightened his black haori jacket. Hirohiko wore the traditional kimono for a wedding: black kimono with black haori and black- and white-striped hakama pants, complete with white tabi socks and white vinyl zori.

"You look very handsome," she said, no doubt trying to stop a fight.

"Hn." Hirohiko's father looked away.

"Thank you, Kaasama." Hirohiko gave her half a smile.

Fortunately, Yashamaru chose that moment to appear in the doorway. "We're ready."

Hirohiko was instantly relieved on several counts, even as his nervousness over the ceremony spiked.

When Hirohiko stepped into the hallway, he found Karura had already emerged from the conference room opposite his. She was resplendent in a white wedding kimono with a golden pattern of cranes, which were considered good luck. A white veil covered her hair, and she held a white fan in her hand.

He took her free hand and smiled at her. "You look lovely."

Karura blushed. "Thank you."

They led the procession of their family members through the hallways to the ballroom, as per tradition, and then their families took the chairs on opposite sides of the room. Hirohiko and Karura sat at a small table in the center of the room, the three cups — each one slightly larger than the last — stacked before them.

The priestess approached and blessed them, then poured the first cup of sake. Shinto weddings were silent, solemn affairs, so Karura silently accepted the first cup, sipping from it, then Hirohiko did. Hirohiko accepted the second cup first, then Karura sipping from it. Finally, Karura took the third cup, followed by Hirohiko, each sipping.

Two miko poured sake for each of their family members, one by one, and everyone drank, finalizing the union of their families.

Only afterwards, at the meal in the banquet hall, did Hirohiko relax. He was sitting alone with Karura — his _wife_ — as their families chatted around them at other tables.

He smiled at her and leaned toward her. "I love you," he whispered.

Karura returned the smile, her entire face seeming radiant. "I love you, too." Under the table, they held hands for a moment, squeezing.

Hirohiko gazed out at the gathering, amazed that all these people — including his uncle, Sandaime Kazekage — were there to celebrate Karura's and his union. Their love. The day seemed more like a dream somehow, the greatest dream of all, and Hirohiko was floating through it, trying to absorb all the details. The only thing he could really absorb, though, was Karura's stunning beauty and the fact they were married.

Hirohiko had someone to protect and love forever now.

* * *

In their hotel room that night, they sought each other out for the first time. They undressed each other slowly, fabric rustling as it slipped off and warm hands caressing now-bare skin. Their lips met in a kiss, and they mouthed each other's lips tenderly, slowly. Karura sucked on Hirohiko's upper lip, and in return, Hirohiko sucked on her lower one, then traced the seam of her lip, asking permission to enter. Karura readily parted her lips for him, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, caressing.

Once they moved to the bed, Hirohiko lay over Karura, exploring her body with soft caresses and gentle kisses. Neck, breasts, abdomen, inner thighs . . . he discovered what gave her pleasure and poured out his love for her. After she recovered from her pleasure, Karura rolled him over and returned the favor, seeking out the sensitive places on Hirohiko's body and caressing them, kissing them, and licking them until Hirohiko had to beg her to stop.

When they became one, they felt as though their souls entwined. Even a few awkward moments couldn't take the sweetness out of their love-making. They cherished each other.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's sweaty arms and panted, trying to catch their breath as elation kept them high. Hirohiko knew, then, that he had truly found more than a wife. He had a soulmate, a friend, a lover, a safe harbor, a home.

"I love you," he whispered, and those were all the words that needed to be said.


	10. Kazekage

**X: Kazekage**

Sandaime Kazekage had been missing for three solid months before the search teams were finally called off. The other nations were laughing at them for both losing their kage and for searching so long, but Hirohiko couldn't and wouldn't complain. Sandaime was his uncle, and unlike his parents, he actually loved his uncle. His uncle had helped train him, and he'd always been patient and kind.

However, with the cancellation of the search came the overwhelming question: Sandaime had nominated Hirohiko to be his successor. Would the Council of Elders — which would convene with only the senior most members — and the Daimyo agree with the nomination?

Hirohiko had mixed feelings. He thought his uncle was a truly great Kazekage, probably the best they'd ever seen, and he grieved his death. He also didn't cherish following in his shoes and being judged by the value of Sandaime's performance. However, he also knew that if he were elected, his village would need him. And he wanted to strengthen Suna as quickly as possible before anyone had funny ideas about attacking while they were down.

It was late one evening when the senior-most council members met to verify the daimyo's decision. As soon as Hirohiko heard that, he began pacing the floor of Karura's and his apartment.

Karura watched him pace. "You know it'll be you."

"I know." Hirohiko wasn't sure, still, if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Suddenly, he could hear his father's voice telling him how weak and useless he was — what a failure he was.

"It'll be fine," Karura said. "You're not a failure. Don't let your father's shadow hang over you in this moment."

How well she knew him. "Right. Of course."

"You were never a failure," Karura continued. "You graduated at 9, made chuunin at 12, and made jonin at 15. You've led teams successfully ever since. You have been a success your whole life."

Hirohiko smiled at her, although he didn't stop pacing. "I worked hard."

"It paid off."

A knock came at the door. They traded looks, then went to the door together. Hirohiko slid it open.

A messenger awaited them. "Konbanwa." He bowed. "The honorable Hirohiko-sama's presence is requested in the council chamber."

Hirohiko bowed in return. "Thank you."

The messenger teleported out.

"Here we go," Hirohiko said, taking Karura's hand. They slipped on their sandals and made their way to the Kazekage Complex, climbing several flights of stairs to reach the chamber.

Releasing Karura's hand, Hirohiko entered the council chamber alone; Karura stood back in the hallway, watching from there.

Hirohiko bowed, hiding his nervousness. "Hirohiko, reporting as requested."

The Council of Elders, including Chiyo and Ebizo, gazed at him solemnly. Sitting before Chiyo on the round table was the Kazekage's hat.

"You have been summoned here because the Daimyo agrees with our assessment," Chiyo said. "You are the best candidate for Yondaime Kakekage. Do you accept the position?"

Hirohiko bowed again, although his heart skipped a beat. "I accept, Chiyo-sama."

Chiyo nodded. "Very well. I present to the Council Yondaime Kazekage."

The Council stood and bowed to Hirohiko. He bowed back.

Chiyo left her seat, carrying the hat over to Hirohiko and placing it on his head. The action seemed momentous somehow. "Robes will be delivered later this evening."

Hirohiko nodded. "Very well." He felt as though he could feel a shift of weight in the room — one toward him. Even the hat felt heavy on his head.

"In the morning, we'll announce it to the village at large and present you on the balcony," Chiyo explained. "Please be here at 10:00 for the ceremony, Kazekage-sama."

"Of course." Hirohiko's brain buzzed at the new, unfamiliar title. He'd always known he was in line for succession, but he'd imagined he'd be twice as old when he was elected.

"Then have a good night," Chiyo said.

They bowed to each other, and Hirohiko returned to the hallway, where Karura was waiting with her hands clasped.

"Congratulations," she whispered, not speaking any louder in deference to the Council. She took his hand, and they headed down the hallway. However, as soon as they were out of sight, Karura turned and hugged him instead.

Hirohiko hugged her back. "This will be an awesome responsibility," he said, a bit worried and nervous still. "The whole village is now resting on my shoulders."

"Our shoulders," Karura corrected, "because I'll be with you every step of the way — your sounding board, your listening ear, and your reality checker."

Hirohiko relaxed faintly. "Thank you."

He loved her all over again.


	11. Daddy

**XI: Daddy**

Karura had been acting oddly for a week, as though nervous about something. Hirohiko became concerned, asking her several times if everything was okay. She insisted it was, playing it off with a smile.

Hirohiko was suspicious.

Then, Friday over dinner, Karura set down her napkin and grinned at him. "I have news."

Hirohiko's suspicion transformed into curiosity. "News?"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" Hirohiko was sure he hadn't heard that right.

Karura chuckled. "I'm pregnant."

Hirohiko set down his chopsticks. "That's wonderful!" He stood and walked around the table.

Karura stood as well, and Hirohiko swept her into a hug. Then he held her at arms' length and stared at her tummy.

She laughed. "I'm only four weeks along. There's nothing to see."

Hirohiko was half-excited and half-stunned. "A daddy." He couldn't really believe it. "I'm going to be a daddy." He imagined holding a baby in his arms. His baby.

Karura cupped his cheek with her hand. "Yes, you are."

A hundred thoughts hit Hirohiko at once: Karura and he had created life together; he was glad they lived in the Kazekage Mansion now so they had more room. Would it be a boy or a girl?

And then the inevitable dark thought: would he be a father like his own, physically and sexually abusive?

Hirohiko turned pale suddenly.

Karura took in the change of expression. "You won't."

Hirohiko knew she could read him well. "You don't think so? Why? They say kids turn out like their parents." By this point, he had told her everything. Or, at least, everything he could remember. He had a bad feeling like there were parts he didn't remember — little half memories or reactions that didn't make sense.

"That's far too deterministic," Karura said. "Some parents do the opposite of their own parents on purpose because they remember how much they suffered. And you can't tell me you'd hold our child in your arms and consider beating him or her, or molesting, or — "

Hirohiko shuddered. No, he couldn't imagine it. To hit a baby for crying? To take his —

No.

Karura drew him into another hug. "You are not that man."

Hirohiko relaxed into her arms. He had to have faith in her words. He couldn't stand to be a man like his father.

He also had to have faith in Karura herself — she would not be like his mother, too scared to interfere and save her own child. If he lost his mind and became a monster, then certainly she would save their child.

"You're right," Hirohiko finally sighed. "Any child of ours is special, sacred, and a part of you."

Karura smiled. "It matters just as much that any child of ours is half you, too."

Hirohiko didn't believe he was special or sacred; he'd only now let go of the lie that his father always told him: that he was a failure. But a failure didn't survive years of molestation and beatings to become a jonin and then Kazekage.

So he did his best to imagine what Karura spoke of. "Yes, us. Ours. Special because its ours."

Karura kissed him.

* * *

Nine and a half months later found Hirohiko by Karura's hospital bed for nine and a half hours. Labor was the most harrowing thing Hirohiko had ever seen. He thought if his wife had to go through all of that to give birth, then he didn't want more than one child after all, much less the four Karura had mentioned. But he did his best — feeding her ice cubes early on, hugging her, talking to her gently, wiping away her tears, reminding her of her breathing, and letting her squeeze his hand at the end.

His hand felt bruised.

Then suddenly sharp baby cries filled the air. Hirohiko stared downward, amazed at the sight of a little baby girl, covered with blood and white goo, the bluish-grey umbilical cord still attached. Her blonde hair was wet and pasted to her head. The sight was vaguely gruesome to him, but at the same time he was amazed. Temari was so small!

The med nins cleaned Temari up, weighing her and wrapping her in a blanket. They also helped Karura deliver the placenta and cleaned up her. Then they handed her Temari, letting her hold her firstborn child the first time.

"She's beautiful," Karura whispered. Temari was still flushed from birth, her eyes closed, her lips parted faintly.

Hirohiko found tears in his eyes. "Yes, beautiful." He thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

After several minutes of kissing Temari's forehead and cooing to her, Karura smiled at Hirohiko. "You want to hold her, too?"

"Definitely." Although Hirohiko was worried about dropping her.

One of the med nins transferred Temari into Hirohiko's arms, explaining how to support her head properly. Hirohiko did as instructed, holding her and feeling amazed all over again. Temari held out one hand, stretching her fingers, and then slowly stuck her thumb into her mouth, sucking on it.

Hirohiko was beyond charmed. He was moved to the core. "She's perfect," he said. And then the tears escaped. He knew, holding Temari and watching her tiny face, that he would never be able to punch her or any of the other unspeakable, unmentionable things his father had done that had left him scarred. This tiny, sacred life was in his hands — Karura and his hands — and he would make sure she grew up strong, bold, confident, and able to take care of herself.

Because that's what a good daddy would do.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews and faves!_


	12. Daddy 2

**XII: Daddy II**

When Temari was a year old, Karura discovered she was pregnant again.

The timing was particularly impeccable. Temari had been born on Hirohiko's and Karura's wedding anniversary, Aug. 23. They, of course, spent a very special night together on each of their anniversaries. So now they had a second child due on May 23. She or he would be born just three months shy of when Temari turned two.

Karura already had names picked out: Kankuro for a boy; Sumiko for a girl.

In the year that Temari had been with them already, Hirohiko had learned some very important things: babies crying did not make him angry, like they did his father; he'd never once had even the slightest impulse to hurt Temari, unlike his father; and most importantly, he loved his child, also unlike his father.

By the time May rolled around, a few things had been established:

One, Karura was tired of being pregnant and was ready to have her new baby at home.

Two, Hirohiko loved playing Hawk with Temari, who adored the swoops through the air and giggled and laughed the whole time.

Three, Karura and Hirohiko were happy to be having a second child.

Four, said child was a boy.

Kankuro, as it turned out, proved impatient and decided to arrive a full eight days early, on May 15.

Once more, Hirohiko stationed himself by Karura's hospital bed, doing everything he could think of to help her during her labor. During the early stages, he held her as she rested; during the later stages, he held her hand and coached her through her breathing. Whatever she asked of him, he gave to her, hating to see her in pain and amazed at how she soldiered through it.

Finally, baby cries filled the air. Hirohiko watched in amazement as his second child came into view — another tiny life. Kankuro, like Temari, was covered in blood and white goo, the bluish-grey umbilical cord still attached, but Hirohiko didn't mind. He thought his son looked beautiful, tears and all.

Hirohiko waited patiently while both Karura and Kankuro were cleaned up, then Kankuro was handed over to Karura to hold. Karura cuddled her son to her body, and Hirohiko leaned close, taking Kankuro's tiny hand and wrapping it around his finger. Kankuro gave him an equally tiny squeeze.

"He's perfect," Hirohiko whispered, just as overcome this time as the first.

Karura smiled. "Yes, he is." She cooed at Kankuro and gently caressed his face with one fingertip. Kankuro visibly relaxed at the affection. "There. Yes, it's okay. You're okay."

Just as before, Hirohiko took his turn holding his new child. He supported Kankuro's head carefully and held him close. He gazed down at the auburn hair, dark like his own, and he continued to hold Kankuro's tiny hand with his finger. "My son," he whispered. He was now the proud father of both a daughter and a son. "I love you." He kissed Kankuro's forehead.

Karura smiled at him, no doubt proud of the way Hirohiko's fears had abated over the last nearly two years. Hirohiko was now confident he would be a very different father than his own. He didn't believe he'd never make any mistakes, but what mistakes he made would be new ones. Not the legacy his own father had left him.

He loved his children.

And now he would guide Kankuro, like Temari, into a place of confidence and surety, strength and self-esteem. Kankuro wouldn't grow up crushed and struggling like Hirohiko had; he would grow up to believe in himself. Hirohiko would make sure of it.

Because that was his definition of a father.


	13. Hell and Heaven

**XIII: Hell and Heaven**

When Karura went into labor with Gaara, it was 10 weeks too early.

She awakened Hirohiko at 4:00 in the morning, her water broken, and Hirohiko could barely stay collected he was so anxious. He snatched on some clothes, picked her up bridal style, and teleported them to the hospital.

"Help her!" he ordered the instant his feet touched the ER's floor.

Nurses and orderlies sprang into action.

Eight grueling hours later, Karura was exhausted, and Hirohiko found himself staring at the tiniest baby he'd ever seen.

"Are you sure he'll make it?" Hirohiko asked, worried. Sweat dripped down his temple from the stress and fear. He'd stayed at his wife's side the entire time, holding her hand, letting her squeeze his hand, and generally feeling ill with trepidation.

"He's adapting," Chiyo told him.

Hirohiko didn't feel all that reassured. His stomach was still cramping from his apprehension.

Chiyo paused. "This is the third child. So far, he's the only one compatible. His upbringing with require great care."

Hirohiko didn't care about that so much at the moment as he did whether Gaara would live at all.

"Let me see my baby's face." Karura's voice was weak. Too weak.

Hirohiko was instantly panicked. He whirled toward her, taking in her pasty complexion; his heart skipped a beat. "Are you all right, Karura?"

She seemed too winded to reply.

The med nin laid Gaara on Karura's pillow, and she inhaled deeply. "He's so tiny," she rasped.

Hirohiko watched them for a moment, torn between worry for Karura and fear over Gaara's prematurity.

The med nin leaned in close to his ear, whispering. "Karura-sama's heart rate is dropping."

The words burned themselves into Hirohiko's ear as though he might hear them forever in his mind. "Do something! Hurry!" Hirohiko grabbed the front of the man's robe he was so panicked.

But before the med nin could even react, the heart monitor fell flat.

After they tried and failed to resuscitate her, Hirohiko ended up bent over her body, sobbing uncontrollably. Chiyo rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him.

But Hirohiko was in hell.

* * *

For twelve years, Hirohiko was in hell. The hell got more bearable, and responsibilities kept him distracted. But a spouse's death scene in a movie could curdle his supper in his stomach, and at night he felt lonely.

His better half was gone.

* * *

For a moment, there was nothing but flying gold dust, Orochimaru, snakes, and the sword of Kusanagi. Hirohiko felt his chakra running low; his bodyguards were down.

Then there was pain.

Blackness.

* * *

Whiteness.

Hirohiko opened his eyes to whiteness.

He was standing utterly alone on what appeared to be the cracked mud flats of Wind's desert. There was no horizon, no sand, no buildings, no people.

Silence.

Full silence.

Hirohiko didn't even hear ringing in his ears.

He looked down, but there was no blood. His gold dust was gone. His Kazekage kimono and haori jacket had been replaced by a simple white yukata. He held up one hand, looking at it. "Is this me?"

And yet it did feel like him. More like him than he'd felt in a long time, as though something bad had fallen away.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Hirohiko turned to face the person, surprised. He had thought he was alone, after all.

Karura stood behind him, smiling at him.

"Karura!" Hirohiko threw his arms around her, hugging her closely.

"Hirohiko." Karura ran her arms around his waist, holding him tightly as well.

Hirohiko understood he was dead, then. Dead, and by some miracle, in heaven. Without a mortal body to contain his soul, he could see clearly what had gone wrong and why. He ended up sobbing on Karura's shoulder, spilling out the story, apologizing.

"You're forgiven," she whispered, rocking him back and forth. "Here, you're forgiven."

It took him a bit to comprehend that. Karura held him as he did.

Finally, sensing that a piece of her spirit was not present, Hirohiko straightened. "Part of you is . . ."

"With Gaara," Karura verified. "Part of me stayed behind to protect him."

Hirohiko reached up and cupped her cheek. "You are amazing." Yashamaru and he had always held the suspicion that Karura's will had remained in Gaara's sand, but now he had proof. "What love!"

"The same love you gave me," Karura said, smiling.

Unable to help himself, Hirohiko hugged her again. She wrapped him up in her arms. For a long time, they simply clung to each other.

Finally, holding hands, they walked into the white light, talking of Gaara, of Kankuro, of Temari. Of Yashamaru and Karura's parents and their marriage, their first date, even the first few times they ran missions together. The white light grew brighter as they walked, and Hirohiko felt cleaner and cleaner, as though the dirt of the passing world was slipping away.

This time Hirohiko understood he was Home, and heaven was home, at least in part, because Karura was there.

* * *

_A/N: I imagine that during the Edo Tensei, which is after all an unholy jutsu, Hirohiko doesn't remember anything of heaven or death as long as he's trapped in a body again._

_I also imagine that Yashamaru is at the house with Kankuro and Temari during Gaara's birth._

_Direct dialogue at the beginning is adapted from the VIZ translation. Not mine!_

_Thank you to all reviews!_


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